Long Explicit Poems
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A Polite Warning. The Following poem is somewhat steamy. Not explicit, but explicit in
inference. If this sort of thing offends you, then please be considerate and don’t read
it. Thank you.
Naked Flamenco
( A sultry summer night spent together
With ardour between us growing
She whispered, “Let me dance for you”
I agreed, little knowing………………. )
Binding spells of mysterious wanting
Soft dark her eyes looked
Into the shades of my mind
An enchantress of fantasy
She etched her velvet pattern
On veiled secrets
Parted
Dangerous lashes flutter desirous
In emerald peacock pupils
Midnight burnished hair let fall
In captivating tangles
To full ephemeral corners
Of soft bitten lip
Coy damp line drawn on her cheek
Captivated
Her expression acknowledges
With known provoking smiles
Eye lights shine saying “already mine”
With twisting flamenco poised
Sensual arm insinuates to finger tip
And eventide's rose is pale skinned
And naked
Curved line from ankle
Writes portents to the nape of her neck
Through black tousled sexual spinal blades
Shoulder dipping
Quivers her femininity to rising breasts
While arched longing
Mouths the indescribable tactile seconds
Of her promontory dancing
Patient in toe tip exquisite she places
Penchant elegance
Of her naked ballet
The ribbon swirl of vanished gossamer dress
Depicted wing-ed arms
She rises a surrealistic
Flight of angels created
In soft light air brushed forms
Of muscle, rib cage, bones and tendons
Body writhed centres eclipse
On pubic between
The epitome of gestalts navel breathing
I shudder Goosebumps of enthralling
Built by such grace of a heavenly
Consecrated female
Led beyond mere heated needing
To a place resplendent
With sheer un-tameable and un-nameable beauty
Guitar stringing twangs the milliseconds
Of her overture
Spanish castanets tap click fervent
Pronouncing the rhythm of my heart
Naked pale formed Goddess
Gently rips from me
Every appreciations confession of
Perfections contours
Fine satin sheen hairs risen
Beading sweats slight trickle
Aroused by my infatuation
Nipples stiffen
And I am drawn from and by
Heavy breath to music’s ending
To land in her presence
Panting
She has seen through me
Every century of a woman’s glory
And with a slow beckoning finger
Her eager eyes
Tell me
It is so
Thru deliberate seductive
liaisons, ploys, and underhanded gambits,
I tendered illicit, explicit and complicit shenanigans
blatant actions to foment coital adulteration.
Ofttime these discrete liaisons found me removing
linkedin metallic keepsake symbolizing union.
Years elapsed since this spouse pledged his troth,
he sported husbandly marital vows courtesy
monogrammed nondescript ring.
Impossible mission prevails to locate complimentary
jeweled tokens bespeaking our joint monogamous fidelity.
Yours truly beset with genuine disheartened woe
no matter public affections, he never doth show
thee above stated guilty admission signifying
mine absent overtures
(indicating even marginal wedded bliss),
the missus posits as wanting from me,
a common garden variety generic Joe Schmoe.
Self awareness heightened
within mental cogs and wheels
as if of a sudden hindsight brought
into sharp focus think barely audible
high pitched squeals
nsync with and accompanied by newsreel
silently displaying story
(solely my viewing pleasure) of mein kampf
metaphorically yours truly blown to bits
while hoisting myself by own petard
vigorously spiriting and
pitching me head over heels.
Regale thee dear reader,
I strive with utmost zeal
plus cathartic to expunge, (albeit poetically)
my pathetic, quixotic,
and reasonable rhyming spiel
hoopfully mine lame literary endeavor
won't upset any spur of the moment meal
thus tis wise I beat a hasty retreat
before ye sic on me Achilles heel
versatile scouts i.e. English language
verb boss and noun sensical police,
yours truly here expert escape artist
dog gone hard to grab hold,
cuz I trumpet art of making the deal.
Proclaiming high fidelity to wife high wed
she already with child (our first)
into holy matrimony we did nervously tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"- Q.E.D.
"what was to be shown" courtesy yours truly
this once upon a time
(about two and a half dozen
Earth orbitz ago) time newlywed.
Now he frets and experiences woebegone
as testimony scratching out
yet another one of his plaintive,
quirky, somber, ridiculously shown,
herewith I attempted to communicate none
previous endeavor ever considered exemplary
yet I diligently, honorably,
and literally try to hone
elusive talent hours daily
hermetically sealed, and sequestered alone.
Is it cool that it’s not cool? Am I making a stink with no sense of smell. Don’t tell me it’s okay to say how I feel then throw me into an emotional jail. I don’t do being locked up well. So what if I get upset. Who says only you girls are allowed to feel? If I pulled on you-what you pulled on me, something that you cared about-and acted like it was “no big deal”; how would you really feel? Don’t step in my shoes and attempt to tell me my story from your point of view. I was always there so give e a hint and double up on getting a clue just so that the cold won’t seem so cold as sometimes I feel you barely try not to do. You're probably use to the inclement weather dealing with people that think they are better and you just keep reaching for their validation, so you walked into thing "us" thing more prepared than I by putting on an extra coat or two?
Is this how it feels with the 80/20? Am I putting down the 80 just to investigate and find the 20? How would you feel if I did to you what you've done? I have your back 210% is your percentage lower or higher when it comes to me? If I watched for you to prove it what pattern would I see? What’s minuscule to you just might be larger than life for I. People depend on the direction of society and employ less smiles and ore frowns, that's what happens when we live to gain approval from anyone yet ourselves and in my opinion...the "real world" was always generic and broken down. Listen to how my “ridiculous feelings” sound, though we bypassed this step on my end but you are taller for a reason you are on step four when I decided to wait now I just a random face in a faceless crowd and I fade behind the background. No pity or pictures please, I just want to hit start and remove the pause.
Because I waited and you play games with you words but I listen and yeah sometimes I overthink, it allows me to address I’ll just allow you to laugh at me. It sucked but not for too long. I’m learning that we won’t always be on the same station and it’s okay for us the explicit realness. Do we sing different songs or different verses to the same? It’s not “wrong” it’s how we learn about each other what’s taken cannot be unsaid or undone. It’s a matter of truth, integrity, and a consistent form of respect I'm always willing to do that always for you. Question is can you-for me?
when on a lark, this primate shut his eyes
until sight formed slits doubling up as a wink
this earthling stared hard and scrunched brow
unintentionally mimicking,
the familiar Auguste Rodin statue
likened to a pose when one doth think
perhaps said captive pose pondering
(similar to me) about life on other planets
while I stared at lunar surface
akin to a disc or dime sized skating rink
awash with luminescence
and imaging himself whisked away
by an alien, synonymous
to the peculiar millions miles distant pastische
manifested entity than didst slink
a non hue man feline looking cat in the hat
comical creatures decked out entirely in pink
soft halos conjured up saintly mink
or...a far fetched thought suddenly
came to form in my mind,
that this har creature a found missing link
whose nocturnal glowing facade exploding charade
possibly a message
or motion nothing more
than routine smoothing out an anatomical kink
on front and back oh head resembling
a Doctor Zeus characterization,
viz a harmless rat fink
hm...maybe a vestigial progenitor
of former birth by Gaia now extinct
though from afar, the b52 shaped being
aye espied as fur ball affixed
with a long elephant like snout to drink
and appeared to lack occipital orbs,
yet evinced possible mode to see via a chink
impossible to restrain me noggin
appearing to nod and blink,
--------------------------------
hence entranced my attention fixed
from faint (perhaps a feint)
flickr ring meant as playful faux
role playing lunatic humorous acting wry
impossible to decode explicit antics
(of spacial cosmic guest),
no matter eyes nearly shut tight visual
wondering if non verbal communication
of mine correctly interpreted
meant to kibitz and vie
despite impossibility to validate,
a continuous effort yours truly did try
fixing thy gaze, nee straining
with alm aye might to esse spy
if cheap trick concocted entire visage,
which might not constitute life form
(admitting this chap to prevaricate,
and be full of baloney),
himself prone to confabulate
(dropped one to many times on the head)
when this rocky lunar image,
a moon scape comprising nothing
boot ham and cheese on rye.
Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
fertilization upon ovule
via spermatozoa automatically
gearing linkedin anticipated birth
especially upon confirmation conception
did sex seed
after numerous attempts dispelled dearth
as probable odds
finally wrought hardy sea men
to stoke the womb
spelling biological chances
that, fecund female will evince swollen girth
the longest time tested oven since humans
found warmth
amidst flint stoned sparked hearth
and fraught with utmost joy
at prospective parent hood
which, (lemme here
collective soulful sigh of relief)
that *****Sapiens
durability foretold tubby good
thenceforth extra mouth
to feed necessitated larder of food
which harvests
must be plenti full to appease gods,
and bank on siblings
to beget appreciable brood
hence existence extant for millennia
fastened tight like umbilical cord
sustaining potential life in utero
in due time dilating cervix will a ford
signal (predicated on natural bio rhythms),
whence that cub hoard will be a saving grace
(amazingly innate survival skills) noel lord
could ever conceive,
an instinctual attribute moored
within early forebears of modern mankind,
an explicit genetic haversack
microscopically pitch perfect (NON GMO,
gluten free trade) blend poured
with just the exact consistency,
flexibility, and resiliency
(in case a lion, tiger or bear roared)
as adrenaline pumped woman within family way
to escape let incubating progeny shored
when time and tide informed clandestine
cherished, fortified, prized oh ward
whence healthy birth of baby feted,
festooned with garlands engineered ahead
reflecting golden halo
akin to a ring of bright waters
thence new born and maternal figure
ferreted nested in feathered bed
which, didst double up when dread
locked spar ring human,
whence grim reaper got fed
another mortal, which body froze
with rigor mortis heavier like a led
zeppelin versus when person alive in stead
no heroic measures extant
when grim reaper came quick
advent chore of early primates could not treat nor trick
the scythe lent hooded body snatcher
as candle box didst flickr
burning down tallowed wick.
TS Eliot said, “Paris is a strong stimulant.”
It is - but it has nothing on Manhattan.
If Paris is a Café Crème espresso at a café-en-terrasse under the stars.
Manhattan is a ‘Black Tie Bawls’ cocktail at The Crown bar (the skyline!).
We were going to relax - in Manhattan,
instead, keep those seat belts fastened.
Lisa said, one night, “Want to go out for a bit?”
Since then, I’ll admit, our nights have been lit.
We have ten days, and we’ve decided to try every Michelin-starred restaurant we can (there are 68 in NYC). So far, we’ve been to Eleven Madison Park, Le Bernardin and Per Se. This was Lisa’s idea.
The food is delicious - if you like a corn-flake with something on it or a steak the size of a bouillon cube ($250 per person with cocktails and dessert). As we left ‘Per Se’ I asked, “Can we get something to eat now? I’m starved.” I was only ½ kidding.
It’s MY idea to visit every beautix rooftop bar in Manhattan (there are exactly10). So far, we’ve been to, ‘The Peninsula,’ ‘230-Fith’’ and ‘NoMad’ - we’ve only been at these tasks for three nights.
We’re doing other things too. We’re going to Broadway shows (& Juliet, the Great Gatsby, Oh Mary!, Wicked) and to see Idina Menzel (Wicked, Frozen) in concert and a John Oliver and Seth Meyers comedy show next Monday. We do these, as in - Dinner, show, rooftop bar.
OH, and we’re dancin’ like we’re sentient - no cap.
Our sordid troup, is Lisa and Dave (her boo), Charles & Ms Charles, Lisa’s folks (Karen and Michael) and Lisa’s little sister Leeza and Meeeee. Luckily, we have one of my Grandmère’s conglomerate, executive secretarial minions (François) booking reservations for us. He’s got ‘contacts.’
Yeah, we’re drivin’ full speed towards summer’s end - “fo-shizzle” (to quote Snoop Dogg). We figure we can rest in New Haven.
Wasn’t Snoop fire at the Olympics?
.
.
dance club songs, for this one:
One Kiss by Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa
Lipstick by Kungs
Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Levitating by Dua Lipa
.
.
slang…
café-en-terrasse = terrace cafe
Black Tie Bawls = (cocktail) Blavod black vodka, lemon, and Bawls energy drink.
beautix = top drawer, rizz
No cap = no lie
fo-shizzle = for sure
fire = great, a standout
[E] = explicit
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.
Inside My Head, My Muse Too Often Rages
Muse, please stop that raking inside my old head
and those stomping feet keep me awake too late.
I love other nights and your words I am often fed
even the scary ones about my coming tragic fate.
Know that this is not a raging and silly complaint
there is far more to me than madness and glue.
Yet too often your words, good words, they ain't
Set me to curse some of the wicked things you do!
How about that night you twisted my deepest love
added in words about my secret lustful thought.
Then the time you cried out, kill that damn dove!
Yes, tis' true my heart and soul you have bought.
And why can not I write one without your blather
are not my own brain birthed words fine and great.
No thanks, kiss you send is rejected, for I'd rather
you took long vacations and did not keep me up late!
Before you fly FAR away mad as a bat out of Hell
please help me with that dark poem, I am stuck.
Did I mention that I truly think you are so swell
No my friend, I'll not lay down in front of a truck!
Yes, you did toss into this write some sharp words
a strong positive you sometimes so generously add.
No, my aching head tis not full of old and lazy birds
I command that you now be sweeter and not so bad!
Hear me again, stop chattering and you just listen.
I want big stars, deeper love and words that glisten!
Muse, please stop that raking inside my old head
and those stomping feet keep me awake too late.
I love other nights and your words I am often fed
even the scary ones about my coming tragic fate.
Robert J. Lindley, 09-10-2015
Sponsor Name-- Broken Wings
Contest Name --Trashed #2
What to Submit?
Any poem entered in a contest in the month of SEPTEMBER that did not place. Please remove all other contest information from the poem.
Requirements:
Poem must have been for a contest judged in September (yes, I check)
Date written and posted
Your name
This contest noted , example, Trashed #2, sponsor, Broken Wings
No Honorable Mentions, although painful that is a placement
No poems entered in any of my previous contest (yes I have a list)
No poems written in - I Do No Know, that is not a form
No poems sexually explicit
self proclaimed er calculating polymath
no win tent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath
juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this february
twenty second, nah scared to take a bath.
The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
eye up ply applies
to brain storming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee
with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,
especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win
Pork Pie Hat predicated on FengShui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark
and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,
where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?
Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose
fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro
throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors
and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,
the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home
especially eerie Under Venus
provoking Wild Animals
to run berserk at lightspeed
en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic
quint essence ova thermocouple
holo graphic images hypnotizing vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating happy interacial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!